


The Trees on the Lake

by Kabal42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-09
Updated: 2007-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabal42/pseuds/Kabal42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy is restless and annoyed and she knows just whose fault it is! But doing something about it is quite different...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trees on the Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bicyclette at Witchwinter.  
> I hope you enjoy this, bicyclette! Also, my thanks to the mods for running an excellent exchange and to my beta for being a dear!

Pansy sat up. It was a quick, precise movement, as was most of hers. This time it was somewhat speedier than normal and she immediately changed her mind and let herself fall back down on the bed. She was annoyed. Irritated. Aggravated. In fact, she was bordering on feeling neglected and it just wouldn't do. It was all Ginny Weasley's fault and how dared she effect Pansy so?

This time, Pansy stood up in one, swift motion and marched towards the door. Daphne Greengrass tried to catch her sleeve as Pansy passed her bed, but she avoided the other girl. No, she was not going to answer any questions, she hadn't last they'd asked what was up and she wouldn't now. That went for Nott calling after her in the Common Room as well. They were all annoyingly attentive and sympathetic to her, pitiful behind her back, after Draco had disappeared at the end of their sixth year. They'd only been back for a month and Pansy was going crazy. She missed her friend, worried about him, and she had to deal with his sycophants as well as her own. It was beyond frustrating.

And then there was Weasley and she wasn't even going to go there, not even in her thoughts. They were hers and private and she controlled them. No Weasley would worm his – or her! - way into Pansy's thoughts.

That train of thought lasted her out of the castle and onto Hogwarts' grounds. All the way to the Quidditch pitch in fact, one of the two places where Weasley was often to be found. Pansy felt betrayed by the feet that had brought her there without her consent. But deep inside, where she never looked, she was intensely pleased to see a slim, ginger-haired figure circling the goal posts, tossing a Quaffle through, catching it and repeating the manoeuvre.

After a few minutes, the broom suddenly took a turn and the flier headed for the ground, right for the spot where Pansy stood. It set off a few butterflies in her stomach, but Pansy willed them to regress to larvae again. Her stomach, her butterflies.

"Hey," Weasley said, smiling grimly as she landed two feet from Pansy. "What are you here for? Second round?"

The red-head was annoyingly arrogant, especially for a blood-traitor, even if that term didn't really have relevance now when all people with a quarter of a brain would be siding against Voldemort.

"Hardly," Pansy sneered. Her mood wasn't improving. "I came to tell you to stay away from me."

"Oh? And since when have I been crowding you?" Weasley asked, rather reasonably, but Pansy didn't agree that it was reasonable.

"Since you seem to think you can dictate what I want," Pansy said. So what if Weasley didn't exactly dictate it; she'd done something to Pansy and it had changed everything and Pansy wanted it to change back.

"Really?" Weasley dismounted and stepped closer; upsettingly closer. "That wasn't what you said last time, little Blossom..." Her hand was on Pansy's cheek that was suddenly very hot. Hot as-

No. Not that thought. Calm. Control. There was hot breath on her face and the thought returned. Hot as breath. As skin warmed by October sun and cooled by flying. As Pansy's skin when Weasley did that to it. Hot as the lips on hers. It was impossible not to want that damned red-head when she was right there!

"Come here." Weasley's hand was in Pansy's hair and it closed there, holding her in a firm grip. It was a high measure of control exerted with simple means and Pansy heard a moan slip from her lips. Treacherous body. She followed Weasley as they headed away from the pitch, towards the lake, then a short stretch along the shore to a patch of trees. Far from the school. Far from everything. Far from thoughts. And Pansy wanted to be rid of thoughts.

Only then, did Weasley let go. They were in a different world now and in here different rules applied. It might only have happened once before, but that was all it took.

"Strip."

Those short commanding words went straight to Pansy's spine and sent strong shivers along it, shivers that ended between her legs and moisture started to accumulate.

She slowly removed her clothing, watching the other girl for reactions as she pulled off her school robe and stood in her bra, suspender and stockings.

There was an audible gasp.

"No knickers." Despite the gasp, Weasley's voice was even. "Naughty, naughty."

"And?" Pansy demanded, her chin jutting out defiantly. She was trying to remember that she didn't want to be there, didn't want Weasley to have this power over her, but her body disagreed so much. Painfully much. It craved what would surely happen next, demanded it, and Pansy knew about demands.

Pansy's body got what it wanted when Weasley closed the distance between them in two, quick steps and slapped her face.

"And," Weasley said in a rather smug voice, "you will be punished for it."

Only Pansy's pride kept her from squealing in delight. Instead, she made a dash for it, as her pride asked of her and she didn't want to be torn between demands – obeying this one would satisfy the first one even more. Something that was proved by the way Weasley grabbed her wrist before she could take more than one step and seemingly at the same time, she conjured up a chair and sat on it, pulling Pansy over her knees. Pansy didn't have time to say more than "Hey!" before a good smack landed on her bare arse.

"Ow!" she said, sounding – and almost feeling – very unfairly treated. "What's all that about?"

But she didn't get an answer. All she got was more smacks and soon she didn't say anything at all. She was too busy squirming and moaning, caught between feelings of shame, delight, pain and pleasure – and above all, a very pleasant throbbing between her legs. And then it ended, before it really started to hurt and Pansy almost started to complain about that instead.

"Mmm... all wet... you really are naughty," came Weasley's voice from above and Pansy forgot about complaints because those words were coupled with two fingers sliding into the wetness of her cunt and further in and she pressed up against them, wanting more.

"Ah-ah! Nothing of that." That voice seemed to ruin all Pansy's dreams and yet, that was exactly what she wanted. It was certainly what she needed.

"Stand up." Another command followed without a thought. At least she still had enough control over herself to meet Weasley's eyes with a proud look.

A wave of Weasley's wand and Pansy was curious what would happen now – the other had an uncanny grasp of magic for one her age, especially wordless, or whispered, magic. It was insanely annoying, but also, she had to admit, something of a turn-on.

That thought had barely ended when she found out. The nearest trees, two weeping willows, seemed to come to life and wrap thin branches around Pansy's wrists, forcing her hand up and apart. Another wand-flick and Pansy's bra flew open, dangling on her shoulders and back, her breasts suddenly free in the light autumn breeze. She was suddenly aware of the scent of the water and the trees and the fallen leaves on the ground and it only heightened her awareness of everything else. Of what was going on.

In front of her, Weasley had snatched a dead branch from the ground and cleaned it and was in process of transfiguring it into a slim riding crop. She looked over at Pansy with a very lusty gleam in her eye and Pansy re-discovered how amazing it was to be looked at like that – to be desired like that. The glint in Weasley's eyes changed and became deeper, more teasing, and her expression almost devious. Provided it was possible for a Weasley to convey that sentiment – let alone feel it.

She picked up another item and this time cast several cleansing spells both before and after doing a rather complicated transfiguration. It turned into a vibrator and Pansy went red when she saw it. That was upping the scale from last time quite a bit! And yet, she knew she wanted it. Enough so that she moaned encouragingly as soon as the toys so much as touch the outer lips of her cunt.

"Slut," Weasley said – more of a comment than an actual reprimand – and slapped Pansy's face.

Pansy gasped and that sound transformed into a deep moan when the vibrator slid up into her.

"Hold it," Weasley warned and Pansy clenched as hard as she could. It was harder than she would've imagined and became even harder when another spell was cast and the vibrator turned on.

She was so focused on her task that she didn't even notice Weasley moving to stand behind her and thus wasn't at all prepared for the first lash of the crop. Because of the surprise, she lurched forward more than she would've otherwise and she even cried out her surprise at the sudden pain. How mortifying! After that, she bit her lip and tried not to move or make a sound.

Her resolve only lasted a few lashes, all of which seemed to burn; a burn that ran straight to her cunt and made her want more. And still, that vibrator was slipping and she didn't want to lose it! She was very sure that it would mean more pain if she did.

Just as she knew the bloody thing was going to fall, she was saved by Weasley's hand shoving it back up. The sound Pansy made was closest to a swallowed groan and it made her arch her back and press her arse back towards the whipping. She wanted more. Had to have more. Now!

She got what she wanted. Apparently, Weasley felt that this warranted whipping Pansy harder and to Pansy that made her feel as if everything else was slipping slowly away; like drifting through fog or seeing through a distorted lens. There was only her and her body. Bound and taut, hurting and needing. She didn't even hear her own cries any longer and when the whipping stop, she almost didn't notice because it was instantly replaced by the vibrator being moved in and out of her, fast er and faster, harder and harder. At some point she could've sworn that the moans in her ears were not just hers, but then they too disappeared and she came, shuddering so hard it was good the trees held her up. She didn't hear herself cry out either, but someone else did, someone who almost came hearing it.

When Pansy became aware of her surroundings again, she was sitting on a blanket that must have been conjured and another was wound around her and she was leaning against a warm, comforting body.

As her senses returned, she started to hear words whispered in her ear and knew it could only be one person. Strangely enough, she felt even more comforted by that thought.

"Sweet little pet," Weasley whispered. "That was amazing. You are so beautiful when you come. I'm so proud to get to see that."

Pansy curled against the other girl's body and felt a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Was nice," she mumbled. Too much admission of pleasure seemed undignified, even now.

Weasley seemed to realise that, because she whispered a soft, though slightly amused-sounding 'thank you'.

Perhaps it was an hour or perhaps only a few minutes later that they untangled and Pansy got up and put her clothes on.

"Still want me to stay away?" Weasley asked before they parted ways, having agreed to go separate ways to the castle.

"Yes. And stop luring me," Pansy said, but there was no real conviction in her voice and she was rather pleased that Weasley didn't seem to take those words at face value.  



End file.
